


I Lost a Bet to a Guy in a Chiffon Skirt (But I Make These High Heels Work)

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Series: The D is Silent [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Author is trans, F/M, Feminization, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Dean, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kinda, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Past Child Abuse, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, ask to tag, bc i always mix dean w mox, characters realizing theyre trans at weird times, dean starts out using he/him and ends up using she/her, kinda???, nonbinary finn, pronoun shifts, theyre both mentioned so why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: As Dean thinks about it, she tries to ignore the stammer in her chest. She isn’t a boy, but she doesn’t know if she’s a girl. She doesn’t know if she’s allowed to be a girl. Hell, until a few minutes ago, she didn’t know she was allowed to wear makeup. She didn’t know she was allowed to be pretty.Or, the one where Dean is genderfluid and only realizes it with some help from Finn.





	I Lost a Bet to a Guy in a Chiffon Skirt (But I Make These High Heels Work)

Shame. White hot, curling around his spine like fire and flames. It hurts more than any bump he’s ever taken, more than anything physical he’s dealt with, more than the abuse he lived through at such a young age.

Maybe that’s why he’s like this. Maybe getting smacked around so much, being berated so much, is what made him such a fuck up.

He stares at his feet, the way his toes curl against the carpet. He won’t dare look up. He can’t. If he does, that makes it real. If he keeps ignoring it, maybe it’ll continue to be a nightmare.

“Dean. Look at me.” Finn’s voice is soft, disarming, comforting. He’s standing near the jumble of bags piled in the corner of the suite, hidden away to be dealt with later. In his hands, Dean can see that he’s holding the makeup bag Dean had thought he’d hidden. He thought he had gotten good at this.

Dean refuses, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until tears fall onto his feet, the slickness startling him enough to make him jump. He rolls his jaw and grits his teeth and clenches his fists.

He hears Finn walk closer, tries to ignore the fear in his stomach. He’s picked fights with people like Brock Lesnar, he’s gone through deathmatches with the likes of Necro and Damage. He lived on the streets and fought tooth and nail to survive. This shouldn’t be the thing that makes his backbone crumble.

Finn kneels, and Dean can’t look away quick enough. He catches the look of confusion and concern that’s gracing Finn’s features. His stomach does a sick flip.

“Dean, is this yours?” That was the question that had started this. Finn had been hunting through the mess of bags trying to find a clean shirt. They were five days deep into a tour, so clothes were messed up and mixed and in god knows which bag. 

Finn had found it. 

Dean thought he was better than this. He swallowed bile, retreating into his head. He thought he learned how to hide this. Guess not, he thought bitterly.

He heard the zipper of the bag being eased open, and his eyes shot open. His hand reached out and grabbed Finn by the wrist, a vice grip that would be sure to leave crescent-shaped nail marks. 

Finn looks at Dean before cursing softly. “Shoulda asked first. Is it okay if I look through here? I just wanna see what kind of stuff you have. Y’know, compared to me.” He says softly, eyes twinkling.

Dean’s world tilts 240° to the left. 

He sits down on the bed with a thud, his legs like jelly underneath him. “You mean you…” He can’t find the strength to finish the sentence, can’t find it in him to speak in more than a low whisper.

Finn sits back on his haunches and smiles. He sticks his hand out. “Hi, I’m Finn. I’m a nonbinary person who wears makeup. It’s a pleasure.” He’s sarcastic but not insincere. Dean can tell he means well, and he’s trying to use humor to back Dean down. He hates to say that it’s working.

He continues, doesn’t wait for Dean to respond. “My makeup kit is a little bit bigger. Would you like to see?” He asks eagerly, looking up at Dean with wide eyes that shimmer brighter than the sun could ever hope to.

Dean nods meekly, drawing his knees to his chest. Finn grins and disappears into the jumble of bags for a moment before reemerging with a square case with a latch on top and a handle. He opens it, and it opens into a few sections.

Dean’s heart stops.

He crawls off the bed and settles next to Finn. He isn’t sure if he can touch, isn’t sure if he even  _ can _ touch without breaking, so his hand hovers awkwardly as his eyes rake across the contents, stacked so deep he can’t even see all of them.

“You can look through it if you want. Some of it’s a little beat up; I don’t buy new stuff very often and I like to use products until they run out.” Finn says, starting to pull some out and spread it on the floor.

Dean’s hands hover for a moment longer before he grabs a small eyeshadow palette. The packaging is cute; it looks like a chocolate bar and says so on the front. He runs his fingers over the brand name.  _ Two Faced. _ This is the kind of high-end makeup he dreams of owning.

He carefully opens it and almost gasps at the colors. There are 16 colors, mostly nudes and pinks. There’s a deep purple that makes his heart ache. The nice metallics twinkle in the low hotel room light. “Can I swatch these?” He asks, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. Full sentences still feel a little difficult, but he can manage little fractions like this.

Finn nods excitedly and grabs a few little triangle sponges. “Here, give me your arm.” He says. Dean complies, tries to ignore the unsteady shake of his hand as he reaches out.

Finn swatches the colors across the inside of Dean’s forearms. He has to rub at his eyes to fight back tears, doesn’t want to ruin this with being emotional. Finn either doesn’t notice or doesn’t react if he does, and appreciation swells in Dean’s chest. The colors look  _ good _ against Dean’s skin. They look soft, in the dim light, and they compliment the warm undertones of Dean’s skin.

He spends a good twenty minutes sifting through Finn’s makeup, testing colors and asking about brands. He’s used to drugstore makeup, to a full face of products not costing more than $20. It feels weird, looking through a makeup collection that cost more than he used to make in a month.

Eventually, Finn speaks.

“You should let me do your makeup.” He sounds nonchalant, says it so casually it almost doesn’t register in Dean’s mind. After a moment, Dean looks up to see Finn smiling at him disarmingly, eyes bright and crinkling around the edges. Dean nods numbly, tongue heavy in his mouth.

He lets Finn lead him to the cramped bathroom of their hotel room. Even though Roman had pulled some strings to get them a larger room to accommodate the five of them, and Mike had offered to pay for it, the two of them still didn’t fit into the bathroom comfortably. They ended up with Finn sitting on the counter and Dean standing between his knees. 

Finn’s makeup is spread on the small counter, some settled over Finn’s thighs. As Finn grabs different palettes and products, setting aside brushes as he mumbles to himself, Dean runs his fingers through the scruff gathering on his face. It’s thick and wiry and starting to itch just a little too much.

“Should I shave?” He asks, picking at his beard thoughtfully. Finn looks down to see him staring at his reflection in the mirror. The beard covers the edge of his jaw, the planes of his cheeks up to his cheekbones, hides his dimples and sprinkles down to his adam’s apple. Finn thinks for a moment.

“If you want to. It might make putting on makeup easier, but it isn’t required.” He says carefully. “I don’t shave but it makes the makeup a little harder and it makes days when I’m less masculine.” He’s thoughtful, with his words, selecting them after thinking about it for a moment.

Dean nods and slides from between Finn’s thighs. “‘M gonna shave real quick.” He mumbles, looking around for the razor he knows Roman always brings when they travel. He grabs a can of shaving cream and takes a deep breath before filling his palm.

Several minutes later, the spread of ginger hair has been removed from Dean’s cheeks.

Finn grabs Dean by the cheeks and kisses him. He smooths a thumb against the corner of Dean’s jaw, feeling the smooth skin under his calluses. “You’re beautiful.” He breathes, resting their foreheads together. Dean blushes a red that rivals the tones of his recently deceased facial hair.

Dean ducks his head, takes a step back, and takes a deep breath. He looks up after a moment and scrubs his eyes, wiping away tears that barely have the chance to form. He steps closer and fits himself back between Finn’s knees. “Can we get started before I back out of this?” He mumbles.

Finn nods and grabs a small tube. It’s clear, and the pinched end and the cap are black. He squeezes some out onto his hands and starts applying it to Dean’s face. “This is just some primer. I use Smashbox but really, anything will work.” He mumbles, his rough fingertips carefully working it into Dean’s skin.

After that comes eyeshadow. He uses another primer for Dean’s eyes before grabbing the chocolate bar primer from earlier. “I’m gonna use the shades hazelnut, haute chocolate, and amaretto as the bases. The darker colors go towards the outer edge of the eye and the lighters go towards the center of the eye.” He grabs a thin brush to apply the colors, his touch light and firm in an odd, paradoxical way. He follows those shades with another color, a copper that comes from a small white circular pot. The taps that over the center of Dean’s eye, following it by using a deep brown in Dean’s crease.

Next, he grabs and eyeliner pencil and carefully twists it out. “This is from Tarte and it’s really good. It’s a very smooth formula and it’s good for subtle liner. If you do cat eyes or anything exaggerated, I’d use a liquid liner.” He carefully lines Dean’s upper lashline before following it with a few quick swipes under Dean’s eye. He very carefully fills in Dean’s waterline, though it takes a moment with the way Dean’s eyes twitch.

He follows it with a mascara, which Dean recognizes from when he used to splurge and buy things that were more than a dollar or two. It’s Covergirl, and seeing the green container makes Dean’s heart flutter a little bit.

Next, Finn applies Dean’s contour. It’s a thin creme stick, a cool tone brown that he swipes across Dean’s skin before blending it in roughly. After that comes foundation. Finn smooths it across Dean’s skin with a beauty blender, apologizing that the shade is a touch too light for Dean. Following that is concealer, which looks  _ pale _ , even against Dean’s skin.

After that, he applies blush, which is a light pink and makes him feel like a china doll. He doesn’t know how he feels, thinking about himself in such a... _ feminine _ way. It makes his heart flutter, and he doesn’t know why. 

Following that are lips, which comes in the form of a pretty pink creme stick and a mix of two lip glosses that shine in the light. Finn applies them carefully, tracing the bow of Dean’s lower lip and the thin ridge of his cupid’s bow. Before he applies the lipgloss, he dusts an opalescent glitter highlight along the dip of his upper lip. He adds the highlighter to the planes of Dean’s cheekbones and the tip of his nose.

Finally, he spritzes a nice smelling liquid over Dean’s face and fans it dry. After that, he slips off the counter and lets Dean see the final product.

Dean’s heart stops, does a 180, and shoots into his throat. He looks  _ gorgeous _ . His eyes are framed in copper tones and thin liner, his cheeks framed by rosy blush and bright highlights. His lips are punch pink, shining in the harsh bathroom lights. 

“I’m not a boy.” 

The words get caught in his throat on the way out. No, get caught in  _ her _ throat. She isn’t a boy. At least not right now.

Finn looks at her for a second, eyebrows drawn close. After a moment he smiles and nudges closer to Dean. “Then what are you?” He asks, slipping his arms around Dean’s waist. 

As Dean thinks about it, she tries to ignore the stammer in her chest. She isn’t a boy, but she doesn’t know if she’s a girl. She doesn’t know if she’s  _ allowed _ to be a girl. Hell, until a few minutes ago, she didn’t know she was allowed to wear makeup. She didn’t know she was allowed to be pretty.

“I’m pretty.” She says, looking at her reflection. Her eyes seem impossibly blue, and the crooked angle of her front tooth seems endearing, not repulsive. Her eyes trail down to her clothes; a loose grey tank top that hides the hair growing on her chest, and loose boxers that make her thin hips seem wide. “Well, not in this outfit.” She sighs.

Finn grins. “Darling, you’re always pretty, no matter what you’re wearing. However, if you want another outfit...I have on that you might like.” He slips out of the bathroom, leaving Dean standing there admiring her makeup.

He comes back a few moments later, a bundle of cloth in his hands. “Close your eyes, darling. I want this to be a surprise.” His voice is low, accent thick enough to chew, and Dean finds herself listening.

Finn helps her into the outfit, which he won’t let her look at until they reach the full-length mirror in the armoire. He carefully covers her eyes, making sure to not smear her makeup. Her heart swells at the consideration.

Finally, they slow to a stop and Finn drops his hands.

Dean’s pretty sure her brain stops working.

She looks a little ridiculous, but she can’t bring herself to care. The skirt, which is thin, baby blue cotton and an extra floating hem attached by several thin lines, barely reaches mid thigh. It sits high on her hips and fits a little tight and reveals the long, hairy lengths of her legs. The top is cropped, and a pale yellow. The sleeves are attached by barely anything and cup her biceps. Her shoulders and collarbones are exposed, along with the expanse of her stomach, abs and obliques on display. The extra fur growing across her pecs is showing through the top, but she can’t be bothered to give a damn.

When she kisses Finn, she leaves behind a film of lip gloss that he dazedly smiles through.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tonyknees on tumblr! Come bug me! Requests are open.
> 
> Products used or referenced in this are:  
> Two Faced chocolate bar eyeshadow palette, Colourpop eyeshadow in sidekick, Mac lipglass in nude, Colourpop lip gloss in my jam, Covergirl clump crusher mascara, Tarte sex kitten eyeliner, Fenty foundation in 230, Nars concealer in vanilla, Fenty contour stick in amber, Colourpop highlighter in over the moon, Tarte clay blush in blissful, Colourpop bronzer in afternoon delight, and Smashbox photo finish primer.   
> The clothes referenced in this are: As I Am's Killer Instinct Skirt, and Dollskill's Flirt With Disaster crop top


End file.
